It came closer to me. My vision blurred and my palpating heart gave me no rest. Although I knew what was about to happen but my heart held tightly to the last shred of hope. My feet came to a stop at the door and my worst fear was confirmed.
My mother was dead.
My knees gave way as I crashed to the ground in overwhelming despondency and heartbreak. Drowning in self-denial, a torrent of tears burst and cascaded down my cheeks. There was a huge battle within me to accept the fact or deny it.
“She has been in coma for two months already. Do you want me to take her off life support?” His words threw a blow to my guts. I knew that soon or later I would hear this but I did not think so much about it. “If you keep her on life support you’re going to spend a lot of money on the hospital bills and the chances of her surviving this ordeal are less than 5 percent. “
“It’s okay, I still want to tell her stories everyday and accompany her. I won’t give up until her last breath.” My voice was crackling but yet stilled with determination. “If you say so,” the doctor shrugged his shoulders and walked away, leaving a trail of silence.
“Mother, today I went to the market and bought a very fresh fish. The stall owner gave me a discount. “I bubbled with happiness as I peeled the pear, only to realize that no one could eat it except me. As I chewed on my mother’s favourite fruit, I fought back the memories of my mother and me eating the pear together last time. It was a daily struggle that I never won.
Time was a ticking bomb that each minute would bring my mother one step closer to death. It was pure mental torture to watch my mother’s face become paler and skinnier day by day. The faithful visits to my mother would only exhaust me physically, mentally and emotionally. But yet something in me kept me going. It was the love for my mother.
And then, death pulled off the final piece on my mother’s calendar. I received a call from the hospital with a message that I did not wish to hear. “I’m afraid that she’s not going to pull through today. Please come to the hospital as soon as possible.” I grabbed my bag and ran out of the door, disappearing into the night as I raced against time towards the hospital.
My mother’s last moments was spent fighting death but I had no regrets not being there for her because I did my utmost to be with her and believe that she would make it through this ordeal, thus ending my mother’s long journey towards death.
My mother was dead.
My knees gave way as I crashed to the ground in overwhelming despondency and heartbreak. Drowning in self-denial, a torrent of tears burst and cascaded down my cheeks. There was a huge battle within me to accept the fact or deny it.
“She has been in coma for two months already. Do you want me to take her off life support?” His words threw a blow to my guts. I knew that soon or later I would hear this but I did not think so much about it. “If you keep her on life support you’re going to spend a lot of money on the hospital bills and the chances of her surviving this ordeal are less than 5 percent. “
“It’s okay, I still want to tell her stories everyday and accompany her. I won’t give up until her last breath.” My voice was crackling but yet stilled with determination. “If you say so,” the doctor shrugged his shoulders and walked away, leaving a trail of silence.
“Mother, today I went to the market and bought a very fresh fish. The stall owner gave me a discount. “I bubbled with happiness as I peeled the pear, only to realize that no one could eat it except me. As I chewed on my mother’s favourite fruit, I fought back the memories of my mother and me eating the pear together last time. It was a daily struggle that I never won.
Time was a ticking bomb that each minute would bring my mother one step closer to death. It was pure mental torture to watch my mother’s face become paler and skinnier day by day. The faithful visits to my mother would only exhaust me physically, mentally and emotionally. But yet something in me kept me going. It was the love for my mother.
And then, death pulled off the final piece on my mother’s calendar. I received a call from the hospital with a message that I did not wish to hear. “I’m afraid that she’s not going to pull through today. Please come to the hospital as soon as possible.” I grabbed my bag and ran out of the door, disappearing into the night as I raced against time towards the hospital.
My mother’s last moments was spent fighting death but I had no regrets not being there for her because I did my utmost to be with her and believe that she would make it through this ordeal, thus ending my mother’s long journey towards death.